


For You

by luthor_pendragon



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-08
Updated: 2014-10-08
Packaged: 2018-02-20 09:10:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2423195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luthor_pendragon/pseuds/luthor_pendragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock Holmes being himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For You

**Author's Note:**

> Been having a lot of Johnlock feels lately. Had to spit this out.

“Hello, freak.”

_Don’t listen to her, Sherlock. You’re not a freak, you’re brilliant._

“Sergeant, behave.”

“What have we got?”

“Triple homicide. All shot through the head. No guns found in the place. No fingerprints. No building nearby high enough to shoot through a window.”

The dark-haired man gripped his small magnifier and stooped to examine the victims.

_The blood on the carpet’s dry. They’ve been here at least 24 hours. Where’s the other kid?_

“Where, indeed?”

“Sorry?” Lestrade looked concerned.

“The eldest child. See the photograph.” He pointed to a frame on the mantle. “Where’s the eldest boy? He’s not here.”

“That’s where it gets sticky. He’s supposed to be back for the holidays from Uni. He got on the train, he got off the train, but none of his stuff is in his room.”

“You’re getting better, Lestrade.”

_He’s got you to thank for that._

Sherlock loped into the eldest boy’s room. It had clearly been dusted regularly, but the hard-to-reach places were heavily caked. And the bed was too neatly made. No one had been here in months. There weren’t any clues here.

_So you’re thinking kidnapping?_

“No, no, too easy. They would’ve checked the tapes by now.”

_Then what? Is he the murderer?_

Sherlock wandered out into the hall. Photographs were hanging on the wall.

Younger boy….

_Dead._

Older boy…

_Missing._

Parents at their wedding….

_Both dead._

Large family photo. Four; no, five generations. Some kind of family reunion.

_Never see something like that in my family._

He pulled it off the wall, staring at it. He easily spotted the older boy in the photo, though it was some years ago. His eyes danced over the faces. Something didn’t click.

“The eldest boy, he was adopted,” he called.

Lestrade came running. “Yeah, he was. How’d you….?” He was cut off by Sherlock handing him the photo.

“Find him. Call me when you get something.”

He headed towards the door to the flat, buttoning his jacket. A soft thump and jingle hit the carpet.

“Hey, freak,” snarked Donovan. “You dropped –“

“Yes, thank you, I’m well aware of that.” Sherlock snatched the magnifier back and stuffed it in his pocket. Then he turned and stormed out the door.

A momentary silence passed as Greg called in to the Yard. He’d seen what happened.

“Was that…?”

“Yes, and if you value your career, you’d best not mention it.”

“Yes, sir.”

*        *          *

Sherlock sat in his chair, mindlessly scratching at the nicotine patch on his arm.

_You haven’t had a cigarette in months. You’re doing well._

He pulled the magnifier out of his pocket and ran his thumb over the sheets of metal attached to it by a thin chain.

_You always think better when you’re playing your violin._

“It’s dusty, and out of tune.”

_You’re just making excuses. You’ve always been too careful with it to let it go this long._

“Just let it slip, I suppose.”

_Just… do it, Sherlock, please? For me?_

Sherlock sighed as he put the glass on the side table and picked up his instrument. He plucked the strings experimentally as he walked to the window.

“I’ll always do it for you. I do everything for you.” He started to play, slowly, quietly.

The tags attached to his magnifier read “John H. Watson”.

One of them had a bullet hole through it.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry.


End file.
